Tuesday, July 15, 2008

"I was crazy back when being crazy really meant something." - Charles MansonI was once asked by someone dealing with a stalking situation on how I'd handle it, as I have, unfortunately, been bothered by a plethora of kooks - male and female.

My reply instructed her to act crazier than the stalker. This, according to my own goofball version of physics that I came up with during the years that I read books like "The Tao of Physics", "Alice in Quantumland", and saw films like "Mindwalk" (which is playing this month on Showtime and Flix if you haven't seen it), was the most satisfying way to go.

"Nast-ysics" * includes, among many, the theory that two crazies cannot occupy the same space. There is always the CRAZY and the person who enables or puts up with CRAZY, but ya rarely see two crazies together (outside of specific facilities that usually have "Haven" in their names, of course).

Even in bands, there is usually only one CRAZY and if they leave, one of the other members then assumes that role, presuming that they stay together, that is (Pink Floyd).

When I lived in NYC, I saw CRAZY on a daily basis. I lived with it too; more than once, yeesh! One such freak show horded junk and insisted on being completely pants-less ALL of the time, and if you brushed your teeth in front of her, she recoiled like a vampire getting a crucifix enema. My teeth were never cleaner.

The streets of Manhattan are rampant with loonies, it wouldn't be the same if they left, I suppose. The religious gloom and doomers are especially entertaining (please don't take offense if you're religious, most of my friends are of some persuasion or another, but they aren't dogmatic ass holes that tell others how they should live, and I vociferously herald the same premise).

Many end-of-the-worlders in NYC have this notion that not everyone has heard of Jesus. It is quite possible that your DVR broke the night someone whispered his obscure name and told his tales, right? Maybe we've never heard of toilet paper either, fucking hell! Even my hardcore, snake handling, Baptist friends think these people have their heads up their proselytizing asses.

I was constantly accosted by this kind of batshit bonkers, but one event sticks out in my mind. I was on 42nd and 6th, when this young woman jumped in front of me all glassy-eyed, just reeking of CULT, and asked "have you heard of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior?" She tilted her head to the left almost violently, and then started to fondle her clipboard like it was made out of velvet, or money, perhaps.

I gently smiled and said (almost Phil Hartman-like), "I am Jesus".

"Well, we all have Jesus in us, but…" she laughingly began.

"No," I interrupted firmly, "I am Jesus! IIIIIII AM JEEEEEEESUS!"

My eyes widened as she slowly backed away and made for the intersection. I chased her about half way across Sixth Avenue screaming "I am the Resurrection and I am the Light", but she hauled ass in that floor length getup outrunning me as my platforms and heavy smoking did me no favors back then.

My theory worked though, I out-crazied her and have since seen mainly positive results using similar tactics. Online I've hit a few backfiring snags with one or two instances only stirring up more CRAZY, but overall it's proved to be, at the very least, amusing.